


A Shift in Perspective.

by Lira_Chimera



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU/Sammy's Time At Stanford, Angst, BDSM, But still pushing boundaries, Cuddling, Dean cries!, Dom!Sam, Face Slapping, First Time, Fun is had, Guilt, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Sam comforts!, Schmoop, Sub!Dean, safe sane consensual, shared shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7506004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lira_Chimera/pseuds/Lira_Chimera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wonders what it's like to experience submitting to someone but Sam is the only one he trusts enough to do it. Sam is happy to oblige. Hijinks ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Shift in Perspective.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZoyciteM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoyciteM/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sammy's Time at Stanford](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5661583) by [ZoyciteM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoyciteM/pseuds/ZoyciteM). 
  * Inspired by [Sammy's Time at Stanford](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5661583) by [ZoyciteM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoyciteM/pseuds/ZoyciteM). 



> Okay. Whew. Hyperventilating a little here! I've only been watching Supernatural since last spring, only found out about fan fiction last summer and this is my first completed story (or story-let, in this case) of any kind in over ten years. ZoyciteM has been incredibly helpful in being not only a great beta but a very supportive and kind person! Thank you, ZoyciteM, for letting me play in your sandbox! This was great fun indeed.

Dean drifted, mostly asleep, so warm and comfortable that he was hardly aware of anything other than the warmth and comfort. It was a pleasant, though unfamiliar, state to be in and while part of him stirred anxiously, the rest of him was determined to enjoy this while he could. 

There was a slight movement and he stiffened, waking instantly and momentarily a little uncertain as to where he was. 

The warmth came from the bodies tucked snugly up against him. Sweet Jimmy was behind him and Sam before him. One of Dean’s arms was over Sam’s chest and his head was pillowed on Sam’s left arm. On Sam’s right was Cas, face soft in sleep, one hand resting proprietarily on Sam’s hip. 

“Hey,” Sam whispered, smiling, hazel eyes warm and glad and very close to Dean’s. 

“Hey,” Dean responded. His voice was roughened from sleep and he watched as sudden color came up on his brother’s cheek. 

Dean blinked and rubbed at his eyes, feeling oddly shy. He really liked all this neat new stuff, the sex, the cuddling (damnit), the great food, Baby’s indoor parking spot and her new shocks and struts, the sex… and being with Sam again in any way was almost too much- but like this? It was all so strange. He felt almost constantly confused, discombobulated, as though there had been a slight shift in gravity that no one else seemed to notice or be bothered by while he was always having to compensate, adjust, focus on staying balanced while all around him things changed and changed and changed. 

He closed his eyes as panic threatened to overwhelm him but Jimmy stretched a little in his sleep, tightening his grip around Dean’s middle then going lax again and back into his dreams. 

-Sweet Jimmy. Dean felt a little silent laugh at his secret nickname for the more rambunctious twin and his panic subsided as suddenly as it had come. 

The room was dim and quiet and it was so pleasant to be warm and snug that for a moment Dean wished he could just go back to sleep again. But, as if prompted by someone else, his eyes popped open on their own. 

Sam was still looking at him and it was impossible to look away, move or even close his eyes. 

Dean was abruptly aware of just how naked they both were and how close they were to each other and how if they were any closer it would have to be legitimately termed snuggling and that was just… just… Okay. But weird but okay. 

Sam cocked his head, looking at him even more intently and Dean had another moment of almost-panic but Sam blinked, his gaze softened and his mouth curved in a slight smile.  

“Shower? Breakfast?” Sam’s quiet voice was fond but there was an unfamiliar undercurrent that made the skin over Dean’s shoulders tingle so that he almost shuddered. 

-Plot twist, Dean thought and almost laughed out loud though he didn’t know why he’d thought the words at all. Then his stomach got the idea about food, and though he was warm and comfy he was also kind of sweaty and a shower would be a good thing.  

Careful not to wake the twins, the brothers extracted themselves from their nest. Cas didn’t stir but Jimmy made a little protesting noise at Dean moving so he took a pillow and pressed it into his chest. Jimmy snuggled into it and Dean couldn’t help smiling as he fell right back asleep. 

-What a kid, he thought, and was startled at the sudden warmth in his chest. It felt alarmingly as though a bit of ice had fallen away from something long frozen and now thawing in his chest. The change was almost painful. 

Damn. What were these twins doing to him? What were they doing to Sam? It all seemed so strange and yet so good (God, it was good) but… 

There was a slight movement beside him. Oh, yeah. Sam. Shower. Breakfast. He looked to Sam, grateful for the distraction from his hamster wheel thoughts. 

Sam seemed much better, stronger even, but still Dean felt a twist of anxiety followed quickly by guilt. He hated the thought that Sam had been injured and blamed himself for not being there to protect him, for not teaching him well enough so that Sam could have avoided the injury altogether. But Sam was tough, Sam was loved and Sam was safe and that was all that really mattered- at least for now. Later, once he was healed up a bit more, they’d work on technique until Sam was thoroughly drilled and wouldn’t make that mistake again. Everything had been fun and games up until now but Dean wasn’t going to fall short on the job of taking care of his little brother again. 

Sam shot a look at him as though reading his mind but said nothing, perhaps not wanting to wake the angelic twins or maybe just not yet ready to speak. He turned and walked towards the bathroom and Dean followed silently behind him. His sudden burst of energy at reclaiming his brotherly role of caretaker was already waning under the subtle pressure of the gleaming platinum chain around Sam’s neck, not to mention the sudden and vivid memories of last night’s fun. 

And they were both naked. Butt naked. 

-It’s not that big a deal, we’ve been naked together lots of time, Dean told himself but he was unsuccessful in his attempt to defuse his rising nervousness. 

It was only a few feet to the bathroom but Sam’s ass was just right there in front of him, sleek muscles flexing and dimpling as he walked, the broad muscles of his back shifting smoothly under his golden skin. Sam had regained much of his childhood grace of movement, finally adjusting to his greater height and weight. But he didn’t look “done” yet, Dean thought. His little brother looked as though he’d be gaining more breadth and strength as he came into his twenties. 

Suddenly Dean’s mouth was watering and his groin was pooling with heat even as a fine nervous sweat started up on his skin and wasn’t that just the thing that was throwing him for loop after loop? And last night… well, hell… Dean’s heart thumped hard for three beats and he was dizzy again but here he was at the bathroom door and Sam was holding it open for him. 

Dean scooted past his brother, wishing he’d been sensible enough to wear boxers to bed but, no, he hadn’t, so his dick was just out in plain view, demonstrating its interest in everything that he’d been thinking about and remembering. 

Sam went before him into the bathroom then quietly closed the door once Dean was in, completely calm and collected though his own cock was hardening in solidarity with his brother’s. Sam ignored them both and immediately started the shower. Glad for the distraction, Dean reached for his toothbrush and tooth paste and got to work on his teeth. The familiar task steadied him and suddenly he found himself blurting, 

“Sho… sho… about lasht night-” 

“Dude, spit and rinse. That’s revolting.” Sam’s face bore a disgusted expression. 

Dean winked at his brother and grinned around his mouthful of toothbrush and minty foam, then spat and rinsed as he’d been told. Then another moment of giddy uncertainty hit him and he found himself looking to Sam, the only familiar thing in this whole gilded, padded mess. 

Sam’s eyes were on him, glittering a little in the strong light. Dean felt heat begin to crawl up his cheeks. 

“What?” Sam asked, cool as cool. 

“I... uh...” Dean scrubbed his hand through his hair and the heat intensified until it felt as though his face was burning. -I can not be blushing, he thought desperately but he saw in Sam’s expression that indeed he was totally blushing like a god damn teenage girl. 

There was a pause while the hot water began to fill the room with steam. 

“You...” Dean’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “You... you seemed to be having a really good time last night.” -Whew. Slick stuff, Winchester, he chided himself, then winced slightly at the vivid, sense-surround memories that the word “slick” brought up. 

“I was, absolutely. It was awesome.” Sam was saying, quietly but genuinely enthusiastic as he turned to the shower and tested the temperature of the water. 

“I...” 

Sam turned back to him and Dean fell silent. His face wasn’t just burning now, it was close to lighting up the whole room like fucking Rudolph’s nose or whatever. He felt himself looking back at Sam, feeling as though he was pleading even though he wasn’t sure what he was asking for or even how to express whatever it was he needed. 

“You want to try?” Sam asked, gentle, smiling a little so that his lips curved sweet and soft with a brief flash of dimples, corners of his eyes crinkling in companionable fondness. 

Dean felt a single pulse of trembling terror- and saw that Sam recognized it for exactly what it was, accepted it completely and understood it, too. Dean tried to speak but the terror combined with the relief of his brother’s understanding and acceptance choked him. So he nodded instead and that loosened the lump in his throat. 

“With you, Sammy.” It was almost a plea and Dean felt a pang of anxiety that Sam might misunderstand him. “It isn't... it's not that I don't trust Jimmy and Cas...”

“I know.” 

Moving smoothly and calmly, Sam put one broad hand on Dean’s shoulder and slid his hand up to gently grip around the back of his neck. Sam’s hand was entirely familiar but full of a new intent that made tingling heat follow that firm, calming pressure. Sam’s thumb rested along one side of his neck, palm covering his spine, fingertips easily reaching around to lie directly opposite his thumb. 

Dean hadn’t even noticed the tension in his neck until the warmth of Sam’s touch made it begin to melt away. He sighed in relief and then tensed again, uncertain, anxious. Sam gave him the gentlest little squeeze, just enough to distract him and, like the lump that had loosened at his nod, the squeeze sort of defused his fear and uncertainty. It joined the heat building in him and left him standing weak, but ready and waiting for whatever would happen next. 

Sam pulled gently against the back of his neck and Dean moved easily, pliant, tilting his face up so that they were looking directly into each other’s eyes. Sam’s expression was almost unreadable- there was the high color in his cheeks and a glint in his eye speaking of excitement but the hand on the back of his neck was steady, holding Dean safe and still in the moment. 

There was a flicker in Sam’s eyes, a glimpse of intent and then Sam’s mouth closed sweet and chaste on Dean’s lips. 

Dean closed his eyes, taking in the soft, slightly chapped lips on his, the long, lithe body pressed smoothly up against him, skin cold in the steaming air except where they touched; there the heat was ten times what it should be and a hundred times more where their cocks were caught between them. Then Sam took his mouth away and Dean felt a sudden pang, something like mourning the lack of that touch. 

Eyes still closed, Dean trembled faintly, as stunned and uncertain as though he’d never been kissed before. 

Normally, anything even remotely like this would have been a joke, a prelude to wrestling or a towel fight but now they were just simply standing in that clean, steam-filled bathroom, naked and pressed up against each other as though there were no other place for them to be. 

For a moment Dean hovered between sheer, blinding terror and a bone-deep, aching need and Sam’s hand on his neck was the only thing stopping him from dissolving into panic and chaos. 

“I don’t know-“ he began and his voice broke. 

“Hush.” 

Dean’s eyes popped open in surprise even as his mouth closed tight. He was shocked that he had so readily obeyed and he was unable to even think of how to go against it. But Sam was speaking again, still with that tone of authority, so Dean swallowed hard and listened. 

“Did Jimmy tell you about safe words?”

“Jimmy's told me a lot of stuff, Sammy. But yeah.” Dean tried to keep his tone casual, light, but he knew Sam wasn’t fooled. 

“All right,” Sam said, his voice soothing even as that hint of command strengthened and made Dean shudder all over like a spooked horse. 

Sam squeezed the back of his neck, almost massaging but more just holding, gripping, keeping him in place, keeping him just where Sam wanted him. Dean’s eyes closed again and he sagged just a little under that soothing, powerful touch that he was already beginning to understand was necessary to the moment, was probably addictive and might even become something he would find difficult to live without. 

“So. Here's how this is going to go.” 

Sam’s voice was still calm and soothing but even as Dean felt something in him open to his brother, accept the necessity of listening with the intent to obey whatever came next, another part of him was beginning to want to resist, to struggle against him even though it wanted to obey, too. Caught between these opposing and yet agreeing feelings, Dean could only dither in confusion, desperate for guidance. 

Sam’s hand gave him another tiny shake, Dean’s eyes flew open and were immediately captured by Sam’s. 

“I’m going to tell you to do things, and you're going to do them,” Sam said, voice still gentle but his eyes were boring straight into Dean’s. “The second that you have a problem with something – I mean, the nanosecond you have a problem, you use your safe words, okay?”

Dean nodded, unable to look away from Sam’s gaze, feeling that the pressure of Sam’s eyes and his hand on the back of his neck were the only things holding him together. 

“Words, Dean,” Sam said, with an emphasis on “words,” and his mouth thinned, lips pressing together even as his eyebrows drew together in the beginning of a frown. 

“Yeah. Yeah, Sammy,” Dean managed to say. His voice was as scratchy as if he hadn’t spoken in days. 

“'Yes, Sir,’” Sam corrected him, frown deepening. 

Dean goggled at him. “What??”

Sam let go his hold on Dean’s neck, took one step back and slapped him hard across the cheek. 

Dean staggered, felt his cheek bloom with rough heat and tears start up in his eyes. He caught himself, tensed and then… he simply stood, stunned and unable to do anything other than just feel. 

There was a moment of an almost paralyzing blend of fury and dread, then he was speared through with such a sharp spike of desire that his vision went blurry and dark around the edges. He wasn’t even exactly sure of what that desire was about, but it made his pulse beat through him like a drum and sweat start up again on his shoulders, down his back and under his arms. 

It was so much that for a moment Dean stepped back inside himself, observing, considering. People had tried to boss him around before in what was meant to be a sexy way and he’d just laughed either outright or internally before steering things more the usual way, the way he was used to, the way where he was in control. But this was different. It was more than being bossy or demanding, this was a request, no, an agreement between them, that he just… let go, that he let Sam drive. 

Sam was speaking, his voice carefully neutral, and Dean did his best to listen past the roaring in his ears. 

“It's not 'yeah, Sammy'. It's 'yes, Sir,’” Sam was explaining. 

Right. Yes. Of course. If, if they were actually doing this then Sam wasn’t Sam, he was Sir. 

Again, a tidal surge of fear pierced through with heat- and he was suddenly furious, with Sam and especially with himself. How could he let go, how could he let his little brother take the reins when it had always been Dean as leader, protector, castigator? How could he just let Sam slap him like this? He should, should, should-  

But he had asked Sam for this. He could safe word and this would all stop, he had no doubt of that. Sam wouldn’t ever do anything to him he wasn’t ready and able to accept, he was sure of it, he knew it… Right?

Sam was looking at him with an expression of patient calmness that Dean longed to shatter. How dare he be so calm when all of Dean was a storm of fury, frustration, resentment and that crazy spiking heat that was wrenching him open like a kicked door? 

Dean took a long, shuddering, deliberate breath, trying to get his balance back but cold sweat still stood out on his body and his cheek still stung and burned where Sam’s hand had landed on it. He couldn’t quite get his thoughts to make any real sense. Sam was waiting, still patient, and Dean suddenly understood he was expecting something, expecting Dean to speak. He tried to think of the last thing that Sam had said and when it came to him, he shuddered again and for a moment he teetered on a knife edge of yes/no, green/red.  

-I asked for this, he thought, irritated with himself for being so easily upset. He was either Dean Winchester, all around tough guy and dedicated hunter or he was a gutless coward.  

“Yes… Sir.” The words were bitter and dry in his mouth and the threat of mutiny came in their wake. 

“Good boy,” Sam said and smirked at him. 

Rage rose up like a rogue wave, venomous and barbed so that he almost growled- but Sam’s hand came up out of nowhere and another slap cracked across his still-hot cheek. 

“'Boy' is a term of endearment.” Sam spat. “Would you rather I called you whore?”

Dean wallowed in the trough between rage and humiliation, unable to look at Sam or at anything, really. At last, he managed to speak: 

“No.”

Instantly, Sam’s hand collided with his cheek for a third time, hard enough to send him a step to one side and bring tears up in his eyes. Unconsciously, Dean put his own hand to his face, felt the tingling heat of that last blow radiating out from his skin like fire. 

Sam simply stood there, arms folded across his broad chest. 

Oh. Right. 

“No. Sir.” Dean’s eyes fell and he blushed at his mistake and then blushed again at the idea that he’d blushed at all and that in his brief glimpse of Sam’s face he’d seen radiant approval. He wanted to look up, see if that approval was still there but he couldn’t quite manage it. He didn’t think he could bear it if it was gone- and wasn’t that a thing to think about for later. 

Sam was moving then, stepping to Dean’s left and Dean turned to face him. 

“Stay,” Sam said, expectant of obedience. 

Dean turned back, facing the direction he had before and stared blankly ahead, another shiver running through his body. 

Sam moved behind him and a moment later his broad, warm, calloused hands were smoothing across Dean’s shoulders and down his arms, then stroking down his back, careful around the bandaged wound. Then those big hands gripped his hipbones and squeezed firmly. Dean shuddered hard all over and almost whimpered out loud.  

Sam said nothing, only released him and walked around to his front. Dean couldn’t keep his eyes up so he just looked at the floor, seeing Sam’s bare feet right there, his ankles, legs- oh, the floor was safer to look at but then Sam was reaching for him and his eyes closed without his meaning them to. 

Sam’s hands fell on his shoulders and ran down his arms again, then came to his chest and stroked from clavicles down to the bottom of his belly but stopped well above his rapidly hardening cock. Then Dean was left standing untouched, bereft, and he swayed, a tiny, unconscious movement, towards his brother. 

Dean felt Sam touch his chin, gentle pressure raising his head so that his eyes met Sam’s. It was bright in that bathroom but even so, Sam’s eyes were dark, only a narrow rim of gold-green-brown around the wide pupil. 

“You’re beautiful, Dean,” Sam said softly and his thumb stroked over that abused cheekbone, soothing away the last of the remaining sting. 

Dean couldn’t move under that gentle caress. He stood just as still when Sam’s thumb moved to his bottom lip and brushed across it. His mouth opened and he felt his face bloom with another hot blush. 

“It's such a shame that you wasted so many years chasing skirts, when these lips...” Sam’s tone was light and mild, but his thumb pressed hard against Dean's lower lip. “... these lips were clearly made for sucking cock.”

Dean shuddered again, looking away. He’d heard those words, or words like them, too many times to count and they were even more inflammatory to him than the “yes, Sir,” Sam had demanded of him. But this was Sam and this was Sam’s game and he- 

“These lips,” Sam was saying and the tip of his thumb forced its way between Dean’s lips, between his teeth and almost brushed his tongue. 

The heat that had begun to pool in Dean’s pelvis was abruptly crawling up his spine and through his belly, up into his throat. He suddenly tasted his brother’s skin on the sensitive tip of his tongue and he almost groaned. 

Sam paused and Dean stood utterly still, tongue tip resting against his brother’s thumb. 

“More specifically, these lips were made for sucking my cock, don't you agree, whore?” 

Dean felt a sudden surge of accomplishment because Sam’s voice was no longer quite so calm and self-possessed. There was a rough note of emotion around the edges of the words that made what he was saying into law. 

Dean hauled in a shaking breath around Sam's thumb, and Sam pulled his hand away to allow him to speak, expecting him to speak.

“Y-yes.” Dean swallowed hard. “Sir.”

“Color, Dean?” Sam asked, in a completely different sort of voice, so different that Dean was almost pulled out of his haze of steadily rising whatever-it-was but a sense of pitifully grateful relief filled him. Sam was paying attention, was making sure he was okay. 

“Green. Fucking hell.” Dean panted and almost wept with what he was feeling, that Sam really did love him and wanted him here in this beautiful house with his gorgeous twins and, even more importantly, wanted him to be happy and safe. 

Sam reached for one of the many plush towels. He folded it twice and laid it on the floor in front of his own feet. 

“Kneel, pretty whore.” Sam’s lips curved in a small smile, as though remembering someone else using those words on him and for a moment Dean was frozen, wishing he’d been there to see that and know what Sam had done. 

He’d obeyed, Dean was sure of that, and the thought of that, the mental images of Sam kneeling willingly, obedient to Cas or Jimmy’s wishes, made his whole body throb and sting with heat. But the idea of doing the same was almost too much and for a long, long moment Dean hesitated, struggling with his fears of weakness, his near-pathological need to always be the strong one warring with his love for Sammy and this unexpected and powerful need to take part in this strange, strange game they were playing. 

-This isn’t a game, he thought suddenly. -This is real. Sam is more than just Cas’s lover, he’s really *his*… and Sam is mine, too, my brother, my partner, my everything. 

It felt as though his heart was splitting open and suddenly his legs folded of their own accord and he was kneeling in front of Sam, breathing as hard as though he’d run a mile in heavy boots. He lowered his head, a little afraid of what was right there in front of him at eye level, but Sam reached down and tilted his face back up so that their eyes met. 

“Ever sucked a cock before, slut?” Sam’s eyes were hooded, dark, shadowed despite the bright lights of the bathroom. 

Dean started to shake his head and then stopped. 

“No, Sir,” he said, instead, and strange sort of shyness filled him so that he wished that he could have answered differently. Which, wow, was that weird, because though he’d watched porn with guys blowing each other he’d never really given it much thought beyond how it made jerking off more fun. 

“A virgin,” Sam was saying with some amusement. “Well. I expect that what you lack in technique, you'll more than make up for in enthusiasm, won't you?” Sam laid heavy emphasis and a bit of threat on the last two words and Dean shivered. 

Dean’s tongue darted out and wet his bottom lip, then closed his teeth over that sensitive bit of flesh. 

“Dean.” Sam snapped, and Dean jumped a little. “Won't you.”

It wasn’t a question so much as a demand and Sam was expecting a response. 

“Yes. Yes, Sir.” Dean's voice was tight. He couldn’t avoid looking at Sam’s cock. It was bobbing right in front of him, almost close enough to touch. It was full, red-tipped and slicking up with pre-come. It had looked plenty big enough all the other times he’d seen it here playing with Sam and Cas and Jimmy but from this vantage point it looked… enormous. Enough to choke him twice over. 

“Good boy. Open.” 

Dean shuddered again, wondering momentarily if Sam was a mind reader now, and then, as if his mouth had a will of its own, his jaw softened and his lips parted, obeying Sam’s instruction. 

He thought he heard a stifled groan from above him but then Sam was taking his cock in his own hand, guiding it to Dean’s mouth and smearing the wet, cushioned tip across his bottom lip, leaving it slick and glossy. 

“Taste,” Sam said, and his voice was tight, strained. 

Dean’s tongue (still on its own here, he realized with a measure of confusion) licked out and swept across his lower lip, tasting the wetness and finding it a blend of sweet-bitter-metal that was a little like blood but nothing really like it at all. There was a sweet smell, too, a little sticky like cotton candy and then under that was Sam’s familiar scent of boy-home-brother-partner. It made Dean’s heart ache but it was deeply comforting, too. 

Hoping it was the right thing to do, Dean swallowed and then looked up at his brother, waiting for his next instructions. 

“Jesus Christ.” Sam choked out.

Sam gently wrapped one big hand around the back of Dean’s head as the other guided that heavy cock between his lips. Dean’s mouth opened automatically on the intrusion, then closed tentatively, softly on the thick, velvety weight on his tongue. He felt the beginnings of a delicate thrusting motion and, eager to please, eager to be *good*, Dean pushed forward hard and tried to take all of Sam’s considerable length and breadth in one go but when the head hit the back of his throat he gagged violently, recoiling and coughing, eyes watering. 

He wiped at his face with the back of one hand, humiliated and frustrated. Who knew swallowing dick was a learning experience? He’d had it done to him so many times and thought it was nothing but- 

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I'd really prefer that you not vomit all over me. It takes skill and practice – a lot of practice – to take a cock like this...” Sam slapped his cock against Dean's cheek with a wet thwack “... into your throat. For now, just your mouth, please. Open.”

Dean swiped one last time at his eyes, cleared his throat, swallowed hard and opened.

Sam guided his cock back into Dean’s mouth, thrusting shallowly, lightly, biting his lip, gazing down at his brother as though he were watching the most fascinating thing ever. 

“Good... good fucking slut,” Sam panted and Dean felt a tickle of pride. 

Dean’s tongue (his damn tongue was a meddling mischief-maker, Dean decided, but went with it anyway) swiped hot and eager right under the head of Sam’s cock. He heard Sam groan and felt him shudder. Apparently his right hand was in on the same game as his tongue, because his hand reached up and clutched at the base of Sam’s cock, squeezing around it like a vise. 

Sam came, hard and hot, flooding Dean’s mouth.

Both brothers froze, shocked into stillness. 

Then, Dean swallowed around that pulsing, heavy cock, wrenching an “Ohmygod” from Sam that made it worth every moment of fright and anxiety. 

Once his mouth was empty of come, Dean leaned back a little, letting Sam’s spit and come-slick dick fall from his lips. Sam braced himself heavily on an outstretched arm, hand against the wall. 

“Get... get up here.” Sam demanded, breathless and barely able to speak. 

Commands usually had exactly the opposite effect on Dean but here, now, coming from Sam… Apparently, his body was not his right now but Sam’s, like his tongue, like his hands, because without even thinking he obeyed and felt a powerful surge of gratefulness at being allowed to do so. 

Sam stared at him with dazed, lust-blown eyes, then kissed him hard, pressing his tongue deep into Dean’s mouth, licking up the remaining taste of himself and moaning a little as he did so. Then Dean startled because Sam had snaked one hand between them, found Dean’s cock, rock hard and dripping wet. That big hand wrapped around him and pulled a groan from his chest, filling Sam’s mouth with the sound. 

“Fucking whore.” Sam muttered against his brother's mouth, jacking Dean with firm strokes. Dean panted and kissed him back, messy, unsure but eager, gripping Sam’s hips with both his hands, steadied by Sam’s other arm around his back holding them tight together. “Fucking... fucking hard and leaking from being on your knees... swallowing my come.” 

Sam’s mouth owned him, took his unconscious moans and whimpers and ate them like candy. Dean trembled and his vocal chords joined forces with his traitorous mouth and tongue.  

“Please,” he whispered, hoping that Sam wouldn’t hear and that he would hear and give him what he so desperately needed, whatever that was, because Dean didn’t know anymore what he needed or wanted except that his body was humming with a fine, rising vibration that was centered around his hard, aching dick which Sam was handling so expertly. 

“Gonna come, slut? Come for me.” 

Then, Sam gave Dean a long stroke and a twist, and apparently the rest of Dean’s body was still on the same page as his tongue and the other parts of him and eager to obey his brother. He slicked their bellies with his release, a flood of anxiety, fear, need and love breaking against his brother’s body, Sam stroking him through his orgasm as Dean shook and trembled like a tree in a storm. 

Sam held him tight, his arms wrapped around him, clutching hard. Dean leaned against him, still shaking, then reached up to put his own arms around Sam and to press his face into the shelter of Sam’s neck. His mind was buzzing with static, there was a terrible, razor-edged lump in his throat, his body was shuddering with aftershocks, his legs felt like rubber, all he could do was cling and hope that this was all okay, that Sam didn’t hate him or think him weak or or or-

A sob wrenched its way free and another flood, this one made of tears, followed. Dean pressed his face tight into his brother’s body and wept. 

“Dean. Dean? Are you okay?” Sam stroked Dean's back gently with one hand, the other still holding him snug and safe. “We're done, okay? Done for now. Dean?”

Dean felt Sam trying to pull back a little, but Dean clung to him even harder. He sniffled, choked back another sob and muttered, 

“M’okay, Sammy.” 

It was plenty warm in the bathroom but suddenly Dean was shivering, freezing cold and unable to think of anything to do about it but cling to Sam. 

“Come on, babe,” Sam whispered, and, tears still running from his eyes, Dean followed him into the shower. 

Dean sighed as the water coursed over him. He felt kisses on his cheek, then down his neck and over his shoulder. He thought he heard a soft noise that wasn’t water running or Sam’s whispered words of encouragement, felt Sam turn from him at which he clutched harder, not wanting to lose what felt like the only point of reality in his world, the only safe, true thing he could count on. 

Sam made no move to leave, only kept holding him, nuzzling his nose against his cheek, lips pressing more slow kisses to his cheek and neck as the hot water poured over them. 

After a while, Dean’s shivering stopped and he found that he could stand properly on his own two feet and didn’t need to cling quite so hard to his brother. He shifted, getting ready to step back, but Sam held him still a moment longer, in fact, his long arms tightened around him and pulled him in even closer than before. It should have been weird, awkward, being crushed against his brother’s broad chest, their bodies touching from heads to ankles… but it wasn’t. It was peaceful and good and Dean didn’t think he ever wanted to let go. 

“Dean.” Sam kissed his temple, then continued, his voice weaving through the rush of water from the shower head: “I love you. I’ve always loved you. And Jimmy loves you, and Cas loves you. You... you're part of this... this relationship, okay? This family.” Sam swallowed hard and Dean felt the strain of what he said next. “It... it's not like it was with Dad. This is good. The best.”

“I know.” Dean muttered against Sam's neck, heart aching suddenly with a ferocious pain that brought more tears to his eyes. “Too good to last.”

“No, Dean. It... it's gonna.” Sam tried to turn Dean's face up, to look at him, and Dean allowed it this time, even though his eyes were full of tears and Sam would see them.  “Cas... he, well, kinda but not really... kinda is gonna ask me to marry him.”

That stopped Dean in his tracks, tears forgotten. There was a long pause as Dean stared at his brother, completely taken aback. 

“What??” 

“Yeah, that was kind of my reaction, too.” Sam smiled wryly.

“Married?!” Dean wasn’t quite able to just believe this.

Sam laughed out loud and the accompanying smile brought up dimples and the sweet lines around his eyes. “Yeah, that was my reaction, too.”

“What the fuck.” Dean released Sam, turning into the water and scrubbing his face with his hands. Then, his hands stopped moving and he spoke from behind them: “What the fuck. They know what we do. What we are.”

His heart might have been aching before, but now it was breaking. 

This could never last. They weren’t anything Cas and Jimmy could possibly want to keep for long. The twins were rich, wealthy beyond imagining, they could have anyone or anything they liked. Sooner rather than later they would realize just what they were getting into with Sam and Dean and then they’d be out on their ears, living in the Impala again, running from Dad. The twins were sweet but they’d never want to keep homeless, dirt-poor gutter trash like them around. 

Dean knew he could handle leaving all this behind- it was more like some weird dream than reality anyway. He was nothing more than a pretty version of a junkyard dog, but Sam, Sam was smart and beautiful and big hearted and so kind and when he loved it was with all his heart and everything else. If Cas dropped him it would kill him, or as good as. Dean would be there to take care of him, to try and gentle him through the inevitable heartbreak, but he knew the kid would never be the same again. 

“It doesn’t seem to matter. They don’t care.” Sam’s tone was wondering, thoughtful, and that brought more tears to Dean’s eyes. 

“Crazy sons o' bitches.”

There was a little pause during which Sam’s hands wandered from the back of Dean’s neck to his shoulders and rested there, warm, solid and strong. Then he spoke again: 

“Right after Cas said he was going to ask me, Jimmy called dibs on you, by the way.”

Sam’s tone was nonchalant, as though mentioning what was for breakfast. Dean froze for a long moment before finally just shaking his head in wonderment at Jimmy’s taste in men and reaching for the shampoo. 

They said nothing more for a while, only finished cleaning up, drying off and carefully re-bandaging their wounds. Dean felt Sam examining the stitches in his shoulder blade and back and thought he might say something about how some of them had been redone, but Sam was silent, only gentle and touching him with a warmth that was familiar but strangely new, too. 

At last, they were faced with the choice of going to find fresh clothes or dressing in yesterday’s things and heading straight for breakfast. For once Dean voted for clean clothing but Sam disagreed. A short game of rock-paper-scissors later and Dean was huffing his exasperation as they dressed in what was available and headed for the kitchen. 

Even before they reached that sacred space, Dean was moaning appreciatively at the enticing scents of bacon, eggs and toast, maple syrup and the bread-like but quite different smell of pancakes. With food like this ahead of him, Dean could clearly see the reasoning behind Sam’s insistence that breakfast come first and that clothes could wait. 

The twins were already seated at the table, eating pancakes from the high mound of them on a big platter resting in the center of the broad table. Dean groaned appreciatively and took a seat while Sam kissed Jimmy's cheek, and then Castiel's, before sitting next to him. 

“Everything all right?” Castiel asked mildly, glancing at them with soft but discerning eyes. 

“Fine,” Dean answered around a mouthful of syrup-soaked pancake. 

Marta tsked softly from her spot near the stove and Dean was glad she had her back to him. How much was Marta aware of? Were there cameras so she and Henrik could keep an eye on things? He really was off his game if he hadn’t noticed that or even thought of it until now… but the pancakes were too good, fluffy and full of flavor, tasting like actual food and not boxed mix with that bitter aftertaste like diner pancakes, so he left those thoughts for later. 

“What were you two up to this morning?” Jimmy persisted, staring at Dean with some concern. 

Dean blushed a little under that piercing blue gaze and took a bite of bacon to make a change from pancake. That was incredibly good, too, more meat than fat and the fat that was there was rich, salty-sweet and-

Sam cleared his throat and spoke: 

“Dean and I did a small scene this morning. Just to see how it would go.” Sam’s voice was even but there was an undercurrent of pleasure that put a corresponding tingle down Dean’s spine. 

-Damnit.

One minute Dean was all hungry hunter and the next… well, Little Dean was perking up and if things went on in this vein it would be hard (-Ha, ha, Dean thought with a silent groan) for him to leave the table. Dean put his attention firmly back on the pancakes, finishing up the last few bites before pulling a couple more from the few remaining of the formerly towering stack. 

“Did you.” Jimmy leaned forward in his chair, bright blue eyes wide and on Dean like twin lasers. “And how did it go?”

Dean shrugged and didn't answer, carefully avoiding Jimmy's gaze, hoping vainly that the heat he felt in his cheeks wasn’t as obvious as it probably was. 

“I think Dean needs a little more time to process,” Sam offered tactfully while Dean kept his eyes on his plate. 

“Ah.” Jimmy smiled, a sly and very interested smile that put a gleam in his eyes and raised another wave of heat in Dean’s face, then returned to his own pancakes. 

Conversation was limited after that, everyone focusing on the excellent food that Marta had provided. There was only the clatter of silverware, the occasional squeak of knife blade skating on porcelain, Marta bringing round another pot of coffee and topping up Dean’s cup and Jimmy’s. 

The kids needed to get ready for school and he observed with interest as Cas and Sam discussed whether or not Sam was well enough to get back to his classes. It seemed a bit silly that Cas was making such a big deal over such a minor wound but Dean kind of liked it, too, liked it a lot that someone as smart, kind and loving as Cas was watching out for Sam. Dean also really liked it that Sam’s puppy dog eyes were no match for Cas’s desire to keep Sam safe- though Cas did finally cave and allow that Sam could go to school as long as he didn’t overexert himself. 

As if Sam could overexert himself in a nice, safe classroom with nice, safe students around him and hall monitors and teachers’ aides and security guards… Dean frowned and considered shadowing Sam just to keep an eye on him. Those guards were fine if you needed help getting from one class to another or maybe getting a bandaid from the nurse’s office but they’d probably be mostly useless in any real emergency. 

Sam was kissing Cas between his eyebrows, promising to come home early if he felt tired and Cas was nodding, reluctantly accepting Sam’s desire to leave the house as usual.  

Were they really going to get married? Dean let out a deep breath at this strange but oddly pleasing thought, eyeing the two of them with a more critical gaze. Sam’s happiness fairly radiated like the sun from his whole being and Cas… Cas was so gone for the kid that when he looked at Sam nothing else seemed to exist for him. 

Well, okay, then. He’d just deal with his little brother marrying up when it was happening for real and in the mean time, Dean wasn’t letting his little brother leave the house without another warning. He pushed back from the table and, thanking Marta enthusiastically for the great food, followed Sam, Cas and Jimmy out of the kitchen. 

The kids went to their rooms, Cas and Sam together, Jimmy to his rat’s nest, and Dean idled in the hallway near the front door not wanting to break in on their privacy. He was waiting when Sam came back down a bit ahead of Cas. 

“Hey,” Sam said, a pleased smile lighting up his face. “How are you doing? Still okay?” 

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean said, and blushed all over again which made him grumble. “Damn. If I keep turning red like this I’ll never have another hard on again. Not enough blood to keep it up when I’m like a freaking stop light. Does this, does this get easier?” 

Sam laughed and a faint color rose up in his cheeks, too. 

“Well, yes and no,” he said. “You can get used to some stuff but, well, there’s always something new to deal with and then you’re back at square one.” 

“Damn. Okay. Good to know.” 

“Call me or text me today if you need me, Dean,” Sam said then, coming closer to him and giving him a look that seemed to reach right past Dean’s outer defenses and go straight to his heart. 

“I will, Sammy, thank you. That was, that was really pretty amazing. No. You were amazing. Thank you.” Dean rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. Damn, his skin was hot back there, too. Was the back of his damn neck blushing? Jeeze… “Hey, though, you call me if you need a ride home, okay? Don’t do more today than you should. Obey Cas, okay? ‘Cause if you come home with popped stitches or something I’m gonna kick your ass, okay?” 

“Yeah, Dean, I’ll be careful. No popped stitches, I promise.” Sam was smiling at him, warm and loving and just a little shy as though he was really just a kid again on his way to some new school with strangers to deal with. Then, Sam hesitated a moment, opening his mouth to speak and then closing it again with a bit of a frown. 

“Yeah? What is it?” Dean prompted. 

“Look. I know neither of us is good at talking about stuff, but this? This stuff is really big and if we don’t talk we can end up causing each other all kinds of trouble, so talk to me if you have a problem, okay? Even if you don’t have a problem, talk to me. We all need to be on the same page with this. It’s really important to me, to all of us, that you feel safe and good and I can’t be sure of that if you’re not talking.” 

Sam’s eyes were fixed on his, the hazel more green-gold than brown right now, full of light and an expression that Dean suddenly recognized from years ago. His little brother was trying to take care of him the way he had when they were kids, when Dad was getting out of hand or when the hunting was getting too intense. He would make sure there was something to distract Dad or make sure there were chores to do that kept them out of Dad’s way, especially if Dean was injured. 

“I promise to talk, Sammy,” Dean said, past the lump in his throat. “I’ll talk your damn ears off if you want me to, about this-“ (he waved his hands to indicate the rich, new place around them) “-or anything else. If I get quiet just get me drunk or something and that’ll probably get me going again.” 

Sam smiled but his tone was still serious when he spoke: 

“Okay, Dean, but I might sic Cas or Jimmy on you instead of getting you drunk. Gotta talk with them, too, okay?” 

“Aw, you never let me have any fun,” Dean moaned and then blushed the reddest, hottest yet when suddenly Sam was in his space, right up in his face with those intent eyes holding his gaze, Sam’s big hands taking his shoulders and using his long, beautiful body to press him up against the wall. 

“Oh, yeah?” Sam said softly. “How about this?” 

Sam’s lips closed on Dean’s, warm and just a little sticky from breakfast. Dean’s mouth opened as if it had always, always wanted maple syrup and bacon kisses from Sam. He couldn’t help closing his eyes and just melting into a puddle in his little brother’s arms. 

“Now, that is one beautiful sight,” Cas said approvingly from behind Sam. 

“No shit,” came Jimmy’s heartfelt agreement. 

Dean felt rather than heard Sam’s chuckle and fully expected Sam to let go of him, to turn to his lovers, his masters, but instead the kiss deepened until they were both panting and hard against each other. 

“Tick, tock,” Cas said at last, and Sam finally pulled away. 

“Dean, I’m so grateful you’re here,” Sam said very quietly as Cas and Jimmy moved past them towards the front door. “I was happy before you came but… well, it’s just so good you’re here. I love you, okay? Don’t forget that. And it’s okay if you freak out or need a break or anything like that, okay? Just tell us about it and we’ll do everything we can to make sure you have what you need.” 

“Yeah, yeah, Sammy, I get it, I think. This is big stuff but so far, so good, okay?” 

“Good. Now don’t you pull any stitches acting out fight scenes or whatever for Henrik and Marta, okay? And take your damned meds!” 

“Okay, Sammy, I’ll be good, I promise.” 

Dean watched as the kids left, Sam last out the door and shooting him a sweet smile before closing the front door quietly behind them. 

The snick of the latch catching made him start and he took a step towards the door to call them back, to demand that Sam stay home safe where Dean could keep an eye on him- but he didn’t. Instead, he let him go, trying to feel certain that this was like every other time he’d watched Sam go off to school, told himself that all would be well, that surely Sam was tough enough, even with his injury, to take care of himself in this gilded, civilian environment. 

He spent the rest of the day waiting like a faithful hound for Sam’s return and when it came clear that Sam was missing and not to be found, that hound-like part of him howled, snarled then bared its teeth and made ready for battle.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this. If you did, please read ZoyciteM's story, too! And thanks for commenting. I'd love to know what you think.


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